


Disobedient

by lilithiumwords



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Gags, Gloves, Hair-pulling, Handcuffs, Light BDSM, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Smut, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 01:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14660220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords
Summary: Yuuri gets caught practicing late by an officer. His coach might have a few things to say about that.





	Disobedient

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurum_Auri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/gifts).



> This is for the Hi(Story) Makers server challenge for May! The prompt was "thighs." Also, Auri wanted uniform kink, so here we are. ❤️

The quad flip is just slightly off, and Yuuri lands awkwardly on his side. He grimaces and pushes himself up, squeezing his legs briefly as he catches his breath. His thighs are burning after practicing all day, but nobody is around to yell at Yuuri to take a break.

The hour is late, and Yuuri is practicing once again. His coach has been out of town for a week now, and Yuuri wants to be prepared for when he returns. The rest of his rinkmates have already gone home, so Yuuri is left alone, unsupervised. He hadn't even noticed that everyone had left until the music from the overhead speakers had cut off.

Yuuri isn't bothered by it, though. His next competition is coming up soon, and he needs to practice.

With a sigh, Yuuri skates over to the barrier to grab his water, squirting some into his mouth with a groan. He really should go home. He's starting to get hungry, too, but he is pretty sure all he has at home is some old stewed vegetables and packaged noodles. Boring. It's too late to go to the grocery, too.

 _Tomorrow, I'll take some time off and run errands,_ Yuuri thinks half-heartedly, knowing it will never happen. With another sigh, he sets down his water and heads back to the middle of the rink to begin again. He wants this part to be perfect before his coach gets back from his trip.

His beginning sequence is a bit slower than usual, but when Yuuri jumps off the ice, he thinks he can land it -- until a voice rings out and startles him.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Yuuri gasps as his hip and shoulder hit the ice hard, but he has little time to worry about it, scrambling up and twisting around to the source of the voice. His heart leaps to his throat when he sees a tall police officer, in full uniform, standing at the edge of the rink, pale hair peeking out from under his cap. Nervously, Yuuri skates over to the officer.

"Um, hello," Yuuri says haltingly. "Is everything alright, Officer?"

"Are you supposed to be here? Did they leave you unsupervised?" the officer interrupts, eyes narrowed. His badge reads _Nikiforov._ Yuuri stares blankly at the name for a moment, his eyes darting up to meet blue. Officer Nikiforov scowls. "What are you doing here?"

Yuuri flails on instinct. "No, I'm just practicing! Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry..."

"The rink is closed. Are you saying you've been here practicing all day?" Officer Nikiforov demands. "Didn't you hear them locking up?"

"I didn't realize," Yuuri says in a small voice. He grips the sides of his shirt, miserable. He had thought it was strange that no one was around, but he hadn't thought they had forgotten about him and locked him in. "I was practicing, and..."

Officer Nikiforov stares at him coolly, then gestures to the space beside him. "Step off the ice."

Yuuri meekly obeys, hesitantly putting on his skate guards and walking around to the officer's side. With his skates on, they are nearly the same height, but much of Officer Nikiforov's face is obscured by his hat. For a long moment, Officer Nikiforov stares at him, his vivid blue eyes raking up and down Yuuri's sweaty body, making Yuuri shift nervously. His workout pants and thin shirt suddenly feel transparent, the way the officer is looking at him.

"Turn around and lean against the barrier. I'm going to have to pat you down," Officer Nikiforov finally says. Yuuri stares at him wide-eyed, shocked.

"But sir --"

"Do it," Officer Nikiforov says, his eyes glittering. Yuuri swallows, then slowly turns his back on the officer and steps closer to the barrier, leaning forward against it. A heavy boot slides between his skates and nudges his legs apart, and Yuuri gasps softly, feeling the officer step very close.

"Put your hands behind your back."

"Okay," Yuuri whispers, closing his eyes. He obeys, and he jumps a little when gloved hands grasp his wrists gently and slide something cold around them, two metallic clicks following. He realizes a moment later that Officer Nikiforov has handcuffed him.

"Sir, please, I haven't done anything wrong," Yuuri begs, and Officer Nikiforov shushes him.

"This is normal procedure. Now, hold still," Officer Nikiforov orders, and Yuuri subsides in his protests, his face flaming hot.

A moment later, broad hands land on his hips and begin to pat him down. Yuuri only has his clothes on; his phone is by his water. He has no idea what the officer thinks he could be carrying.

Officer Nikiforov's hands slide lower on Yuuri's thighs, squeezing them firmly. "Tsk, your muscles here are very tense. Have you been stretching properly before and after your practices?"

"What?" Yuuri asks, his entire being focused on the way Officer Nikiforov has knelt behind him. His hands push Yuuri's legs apart a little further, and a tiny noise escapes Yuuri's throat. This position is _humiliating_ \-- Officer Nikiforov is right behind his ass! The thought of him smelling Yuuri's sweat...

He remembers that Officer Nikiforov asked him a question. "I, um, yes? If he's here, my coach usually..."

"Sounds like your coach needs to keep a better eye on you," Officer Nikiforov mutters, then stands up behind Yuuri, his hands settling on his hips. Yuuri can feel the heat of his body inches away, and he bites down on his lip. If he moved slightly, he would press against Officer Nikiforov in a very inappropriate manner.

"Hmm, interesting," Officer Nikiforov murmurs, sounding very close to Yuuri's ear. His hands dip around Yuuri's stomach and lower, cupping Yuuri's half-hard cock briefly, then moving to his backside. Yuuri goes stiff with shock, bewildered at his own body for being aroused. His whole body flushes at once, and Yuuri bites down on a whimper.

Officer Nikiforov slides his hands lower, spreading Yuuri's lower cheeks carefully, then squeezing firmly. "Your muscles here are tense, too. I should like to have a word with your coach."

"He's very busy, though," Yuuri tries to protest, then lets out a startled moan when Officer Nikiforov spreads his ass cheeks again and suddenly steps closer, pressing up against Yuuri's back. Something hot and hard juts up between Yuuri's legs. "Sir, please, what..."

"You've been very naughty, Yuuri," Officer Nikiforov murmurs, his breath washing hot over Yuuri's ear. One of his hand sneaks underneath Yuuri's shirt and up his stomach, leather brushing Yuuri's nipple. Yuuri gasps and arches, focused on that hard cock between his legs, separated from him only by fabric. Officer Nikiforov chuckles. "You haven't been taking care of yourself while your coach has been away. I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."

"Officer --"

"Call me Viktor."

"Viktor?"

"Good," Viktor purrs, then steps back, giving Yuuri a chance to collect himself. The brief respite doesn't last long, though, as suddenly, those broad hands return to Yuuri's hips and yank down his pants, shocking him with the cool air of the rink.

"Viktor! What are you doing?" Yuuri asked, embarrassed. Anybody could see them! Viktor responds by taking off a leather glove and pushing it into Yuuri's mouth. He gasps around the leather, and a moment later, Viktor's broad hand lands on his back and pushes him over, keeping one hand on his hip to steady him. Yuuri ends up bent over the barrier, his legs spread apart by Viktor's boots, and he whimpers. Knowing Viktor can see all of him like this incites him, reminding him of his fantasies.

"How needy you are," Viktor chuckles, his bare hands sliding down over Yuuri's arse and pulling his cheeks apart. "You must be a handful for your poor coach. Practicing late when you shouldn't be, avoiding your stretches, not eating properly. Packaged noodles aren't a real meal, Yuuri."

Yuuri flushes in shame. He should have known he would be caught. A moment later, slick fingers slide between his legs and gently fondle his hard cock, making Yuuri moan around the glove in his mouth. He spreads his legs wider, wanting Viktor to touch him more. He hasn't been aroused like this in so long. He can feel his cock leaking with precome, and he shudders, pressing his forehead against the cool stone of the barrier.

"Do you want more, Yuuri?" Viktor murmurs. He lets go of Yuuri's aching cock and touches one finger to Yuuri's entrance, slowly circling it. "I bet you have been neglecting this, too."

Yuuri tries to say _please_ through the glove in his mouth. He needs something inside him. The finger gently massages his skin, and a second later, Yuuri feels something cold and slick land on his backside. He gasps in shock, and Viktor presses his advantage by smearing the lube into his entrance and sliding a finger deep into Yuuri.

Yuuri throws his head back, his eyes rolling. Viktor's hand tightens on his hip, a breath of air hissing between his teeth. "Perhaps not," Viktor mutters, and Yuuri shudders. "Have you been playing with yourself, Yuuri? Fucking yourself with your fingers, thinking of your coach..."

"Dildo," Yuuri says, the word muffled by the glove in his mouth. He finally spits out the glove and swallows, his voice a little rough now. "Been using a dildo. I needed..."

"What you need," Viktor hisses, taking his finger from Yuuri, then sliding in two hard, "is me. You need a good fucking, because you have been very naughty. Disrespectful. Disobedient." He pushes his fingers deeper, stretching Yuuri firmly, making him writhe. It isn't enough. He needs more.

"I've been alone," Yuuri whines, his cock leaking a little as Viktor brushes against his prostate. He moans, turning his head and wishing Viktor would hurry up. "You've -- my coach has been gone for over a week, and I have a competition coming up. I have needs, Viktor!"

"What you need is this," Viktor says, and his hands leave Yuuri for a moment. Yuuri inhales to hear a zipper sliding open, followed by the faint sound of Viktor gripping himself, spreading lube across his cock. "Feel this, Yuuri. A week without you, and this is what you have done to me." He steps closer, between Yuuri's legs, and Yuuri moans as the blunt head of Viktor's cock presses against his twitching hole.

"Please, Viktor," Yuuri whimpers, thrusting back, but Viktor grabs his hips and holds him still.

"You're going to take a day off tomorrow. You're going to let me take care of you, and you're not going to complain." Yuuri closes his mouth, not replying for a moment, until Viktor grabs him by his hair and pulls him back, making Yuuri arch. He gyrates against Viktor's cock, but Viktor holds firm, pressing his lips to Yuuri's neck. "Promise me, Yuuri."

"I promise," Yuuri gasps. "I'll be good, Viktor, I'll be so good, just please, please fuck me --"

"Good boy," Viktor murmurs, then begins to press into Yuuri, his thick cock opening Yuuri up better than any dildo or his own fingers. Heat rushes over him, and he cries out, throwing his head back against Viktor's shoulder, unable to control his own body. As Viktor slides home, Yuuri goes taught, his body quivering as his orgasm leaves streaks across the barrier.

"Wow," Viktor whispers, stroking his hand down Yuuri's stomach, sliding his fingers through the sticky mess. He bites down on Yuuri's neck, smirking as Yuuri moans. "You're so good, Yuuri, coming from just my cock. Would you like to be fucked now?"

"Please," Yuuri whispers, turning his head, seeking Viktor's lips. Viktor rewards him with a sweet kiss, as he begins to fuck into Yuuri. Each thrust drives Yuuri's breath from his body, because nothing feels as good as this. He has been waiting for so long, and Viktor feels as good as he dreamed.

The soft sounds of skin slapping on skin and Viktor's low grunts fill his ears. Viktor has one hand pressed against his chest, holding him still as he fills Yuuri, each thrust slow and calculated, designed to make Yuuri whimper. After a moment, Yuuri pulls away from him and leans forward, shuddering as the change in position pulls Viktor deeper into him. Despite his orgasm, he doesn't feel satisfied, and his cock is still hard.

"I bet I could make you come again," Viktor murmurs, driving a little harder into Yuuri. His thrusts are steady and deep, but Yuuri wants him to go harder, faster. He whines and pushes back against Viktor's next thrust, but Viktor grabs him by the hips and holds him still again. "Just my cock, no touching... a second time."

"Impossible," Yuuri whimpers, but he can feel it building, lust overwhelming his senses. Viktor lifts his hips again, practically to his toes, and Yuuri cries out as Viktor's cock rubs against his prostate, sending heat shivering through him. Viktor moans low as he slides in again, and now his thrusts are more powerful, a little faster.

"I'm almost," Yuuri whines, and Viktor's hands tighten on his hips, likely leaving bruises.

"You're so perfect, Yuuri, so good for me. I'm going to take such good care of you," Viktor croons, and as his lips brush the sore spot on Yuuri's neck, Yuuri comes undone. He goes rigid, pumping thick streaks of come over the mess he made earlier, and Viktor curses low under his breath, his hips stuttering as his heat fills Yuuri, his cock pulsing inside him.

Yuuri falls limp against the barrier, moaning as he feels Viktor's thick seed dripping down his leg. When Viktor slides out carefully, Yuuri shudders and falls to his knees, only for Viktor to catch him. A moment later, the handcuffs fall to the ground, and Viktor lifts Yuuri into his arms, holding him close.

"You did so well, my love," Viktor whispers, kissing Yuuri's forehead, before carrying him away.

Yuuri smiles and closes his eyes. What a way to welcome his coach home.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! (*´♡`*)


End file.
